15. “Roar” - Katy Perry #2
Bea’s brows peak in the center of her forehead. “Pretty sure sane people don’t post those things online.”
“Did you find anything?” I ask.
“I did some digging, but I’m afraid it’s not going to be what you want to hear.”
“Terrific.” I scoop another ball of dough. “Let me fortify myself first.”
“She’s a pretty open book on social media. That can be a bad thing, depending on what you’re putting out there, but she does it in a genuine way that attracts people to her.”
Of course she does.
“Did you see her follower count?”
I shake my head.
“Ten thousand,” she says.
“So? I have like ten million or something.”
Bea laughs. “You’re the bloody queen. She’s a nobody. Just a regular person who went viral and is quickly reaching influencer level.”
“I have no idea what you just said.”
“My point is that she’s popular. Whatever she’s doing is working.”
I squint at her. “What is she doing?”
Bea pulls a comical face. “Being herself.”
I let this sink in. I may have a thousand times more followers than her, but mine follow me because of my position. Hers follow her because of . . . her.
“Please tell me you found more than the fact that she’s well-liked.” If I can’t find dirt on this woman, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
“Her day job is in real estate, so I did a little snooping into the brokerage she works for. Their website shows that she’s been their top-selling agent for the past two years.”
“Okay. And?” I say. “If the brokerage is small, she can’t make much.”
“Except that this particular brokerage is known to handle some of Wesbourne’s most prestigious clients.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if Elizabeth is outselling her colleagues, and their deals are as high-dollar as they sound, she is bringing home some serious cash.”
My brow puckers. That can’t be right. “She’s raising her son on her own. That can’t be cheap. Besides, she probably has a lot of loans to pay off from university.”
Bea bites her lip. “There’s more. I also looked into that wellness company she sells for. She mentioned her rank in a recent post. According to the pay chart I found, she’s making around five figures a month from those commissions alone.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” My head feels abnormally empty, as though my thoughts all saw the direction this conversation was headed in and decided to flee.
“I think it’s safe to say this girl is not after money.”
“Maybe she wants fame?”
Bea waves her phone in my face. “She doesn’t need it, Celia. And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want it. From what I’ve read, she is as genuine and kind as they come. In fact, she’s kind of repulsive with that wholesome, down-to-earth vibe. She’s probably never even pirated a movie.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the corners of them. There has to be another way.
“I can’t let her steal Henry.” I say it quietly, afraid that by giving voice to it, I’m admitting to the possibility.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Bea says. “Henry is as much yours as he’s ever been.”
“I can’t give him what he wants.”
“You mean a baby? You just have to give it more time.” She rubs her hand over my arm.
I shake my head. “The kind of mum she is. The kind of mum you’ll be. I’m not—” I swallow and start again. “I’m not wired like that.”
“Of course you are. How can you say that?”
“Have you seen me with kids?”
“Not very often—”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” she says. “I’ve had even less experience than you, and I think I’ll be a knockout mum.”
I turn to face her. “You sure you don’t want to consider the adoption route? I could go with you, take some time off, and—”
“Celia.” She takes both of my hands in hers. “I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I feel alive for the first time in my life. When I’m not puking out my guts, that is.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I say. Or sabotage our family’s reputation.
“If I do, it will be worth it.” She smiles, and there’s so much joy in her eyes, so much lightness in her face. Maybe there’s something to this motherhood thing that both she and Elizabeth have discovered.
I brush the thought aside and squeeze her hands in agreement. “I should go so you can rest.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t find anything more helpful,” she says once we’re standing at the door.
I lift my chin. “I’m not giving up. There has to be something I can use to stop this woman from whatever devious plan she’s enacted.”
“You could always hire a private investigator to tail her like they do in the movies.” Bea waggles her eyebrows at me.
“That’s a brilliant plan,” I say. Light bulbs are already flashing in my head. I should have thought of it sooner. “I’ll bet Preston knows someone.”
I call him on my way down the corridor, cookie dough tucked under my arm. His family has a list of political connections longer than the receiving line at my coronation. There must be a way for him to pull a few strings and hire someone quietly.
When he answers, I explain my request and the reason behind it.
“No problem,” he says, as though I’ve just asked him to mail a letter for me. “My dad has a whole list of them.”
“I don’t even want to know why.”
Preston laughs, a low chuckle that tickles my ear through the phone. “You mean not everyone keeps a section of their Rolodex devoted to PIs?”
“Only the sketchy ones.”
“Well, in this case, I’m glad I can help out.”
I thank him. “And Preston? I know it goes without saying that this is to be kept—”
“—in the strictest confidence. As always, my dear.”
“Thank you. You’re a gem.”
“Anything for you.”